


Don't you dare be late

by rachlovesligers



Category: Agent Carter (TV), Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Kid Fic, Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-11
Updated: 2016-11-25
Packaged: 2018-05-19 18:47:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 12,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5977342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rachlovesligers/pseuds/rachlovesligers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of Steve and Peggy prompts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. First time they saw their new baby

**Author's Note:**

> I've decided to put all my steggy tumblr prompts together and post them on here. It's a mixture of 1940s and modern AU steggy, they're mostly happy so far, but I can't guarantee it will stay that way. I'll update as I post new prompts, so the rating and tags may change.  
> My tumblr is http://rachlovesligers.tumblr.com/, feel free to let me know what you think!

There were a lot of modern advancements Peggy was amazed by, but ultrasound technology was not one of them. Not to say she didn’t see the numerous benefits, the chance to spot complications early, for example, and she’d seen on TV the way people fawned over the blurry images of their impending arrivals. But she simply didn’t see the fuss over a grainy image of a developing child.

Steve, on the other hand, could barely contain his excitement. His enthusiasm so far had been channelled through large numbers of books and documentaries. Combined with the fact that he’d all but cried when she’d told him she was pregnant, she had expected an emotional reaction from Steve when they went for their 16 week scan. What she hadn’t been prepared for was hers.

Positioned comfortably enough on the examination table, Peggy smiled politely as the ultrasound technician asked enthusiastically if they were “ready to meet their baby” and explained they’d be given photos to take home. Steve was practically jumping on the spot beside her, nodding vigorously at everything the technician told them. It all seemed rather over the top.

It didn’t take the technician long to prepare her equipment and begin. Steve was holding Peggy’s hand tightly, while his other hand rested on her head, fingers stroking gently through her hair. A moment later the technician turned the small screen towards them.

“Peggy, that’s our baby.” She wanted to make a teasing comment but his voice was so thick with emotion and he had the most adoring smile on his face that she couldn’t bear to.

Instead she looked up at the screen and was met with a much more developed image than she had expected to see. It showed the baby’s profile and she could clearly see the shape of their small lips and rounded nose, their tiny hands were in fists by their face as though about engage in a fist fight.

“Well it’s certainly your child,” Peggy commented as Steve noticed the almost comical position of the child’s fists.

“You say that like you don’t regularly use your fists to beat the crap out of men twice your size.”

That earned them a wide eyed look of disbelief mixed with mild terror from the technician.

They turned their attention back to the image on the screen and Peggy was shocked by how real it all felt. She hadn’t expected to feel so overwhelmed with love and awe for something she could only see a slightly grainy image of. She certainly hadn’t expected to get teary eyed as it opened its mouth in what the technician explained was a yawn.

The technician made a comment about how active their baby was, but Peggy was only half listening. It seemed dreadfully silly, it could’ve been anyone’s child wriggling about on that screen. But it wasn’t anyone’s child, it was her and Steve’s child.

“Are you crying?” Steve couldn’t keep his surprise from his voice.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” But the way her voice wavered on the last word and the dampness she felt on her cheeks didn’t help her denial.

The technician excused herself for a moment and Peggy looked up at Steve. He, unsurprisingly, had traces of tears down his cheeks and an adorable grin on his face.

“I told you this was a big deal,” he said teasingly, reaching out to wipe away the tears that had fallen down her cheeks.

“Oh hush.” For all that she had teased him about his excitement, now she was the one fighting back tears. “We’re getting pictures to take home, aren’t we?”

Steve chuckled softly, “Yes, we’re getting pictures.”

“Good.”


	2. Steve growing a beard

Peggy had been away on an undercover mission for over five weeks, and there didn’t seem to be any sign of it ending soon. They’d hoped the objective could be completed within a month, but it was proving more complicated than they’d expected. Steve had been involved in the planning of the mission but for a number of reasons, his distinctly recognisable face being the main one, it had been decided that Peggy should carry out the mission alone.

They’d had minimal contact over the course of the mission, a few encrypted notes and phone calls here and there, but it was a huge leap from the closeness they’d both become accustomed to since having moved in together only six months ago. So Steve would be lying if he claimed his sole motive for suggesting he find a way to join her undercover was for the benefit of the mission itself. Of course the successful completion of their objective was important, but the prospect of being able to be in the same room as Peggy again, to be able to talk to her for more than a brief few minutes, was the main source of his enthusiasm.

His great idea had involved a pair of fake glasses and some costume wax he thought could be used to reshape his nose and chin. However the results had been a little too comical to be realistic, and Peggy’s latest correspondence made it clear she found it hilarious they’d even entertained the idea. Her slightly less theatrical idea was that Steve simply grow a beard and dye his hair an unassuming shade of brown.

The last time Steve had come close to growing any facial hair had been long before the serum. In his late teens he’d attempted to grow a moustache but he hadn’t been able to manage much, and the embarrassing wisps of fluff that formed on his upper lip were enough to put him off ever trying again. But he put his doubts aside and resolved to let his facial hair grow enough to stop his face from being so damn identifiable.

Steve had noticed since the serum that he’d had to shave more often than he was used to, but he hadn’t been prepared for just how thick his beard would grow to be. He kept it at a neat length, but was still surprised by how drastically it changed his appearance. Peggy had been right to suggest he dye his hair, not only did it help to further alter his overall look, but his facial hair grew a few shades darker than the dark blonde hair on his head, resulting in an odd contrast.

When it had been agreed that Steve’s appearance had been changed enough and the necessary arrangements were made to set up his undercover identity, he began to feel a surprising sense of nervousness. It wasn’t because of the mission, Peggy was more than capable and he was simply there to assist her and help speed up the process. It was because the thought of not only seeing Peggy again after having been apart, but being reunited with her when he looked so different intimidated him a little. He knew her feelings for him went deeper than his appearance, as did his for her, but he couldn’t help worrying that she might be put off by the shaggy scruff that now covered half his face.

A few long days later Steve stood waiting in the motel Peggy had decided would be their meeting point. He’d put down his bag, checked the room for bugging devices and then began pacing. He tried to concentrate on running through the details of his new identity, but he couldn’t keep from checking his appearance in the mirror every few minutes. Peggy was due to arrive at any moment and there was nothing he could do now about his transformed appearance.

He heard the key in the door and his heart squeezed in a confusing mixture of excitement and nervousness. When he saw Peggy’s warm smile, her neatly pinned hair, and smelt the familiar scent of her perfume he forgot his nerves for a moment. Every instinct he had was telling him run across the room and sweep her up in his arms, but the look of confusion that suddenly crossed her face stopped him.

“Oh”

He remembered his new beard and rubbed it self-consciously, “It looks awful, I know.”

“Awful is not exactly the word I had in mind,” she replied as she made her way over to him, dropping her bag absentmindedly along the way.

Before he could respond Peggy’s hands were on either side of his face, pulling him in for a kiss. His lips parted under hers and he relished in all the things he’d desperately missed over the past weeks, the taste of her lipstick, the feel of her hand at his neck as she pulled him closer, her body pressed closely against his.

After a few minutes of alternating between rough and gentle kissing, Peggy pulled away just enough to take in his whole face. Steve kept his arm tight around her waist, holding her close, he wasn’t ready to let go of her just yet. She raised a hand to gently comb through his hair, another sensation he’d missed, before she lowered it and stoked her fingers across his beard.

“So you think this will be alright?”

“Hmm?”

“For the mission,” he motioned to his beard.

“Oh, it will be more than alright,” she replied as she pulled him in for another passionate kiss.


	3. Disagreement over whether or not oral counts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was a prompt challenge in response to this post: http://roboticonography.tumblr.com/post/127797308307/theseerasures-professorspork-things-i-think

Despite the grey skies and damp conditions, there was an atmosphere of excitement throughout the camp. The team had just completed a mission successfully and would be packing up first thing the next morning to move on to their next location. They’d been told that once they reached their new base they would be allowed a few days rest before work began on their next mission. Rumours about what kind of amenities would be available for them to enjoy during their short break had been the talk of the camp. Dugan had heard through Falsworth, who had heard from Morita, that there was an abandoned whisky distillery not far from their new base.

The rumour that had caught Steve’s attention, however, was that of an empty hotel, complete with clean linens and lockable doors. He’d ignored Dugan’s wink as he’d shared that particular story with Steve.

“Apparently the owners kept the beds made up just in case any visitors came, before they had to abandon the place.” Steve explained as he repeated the rumour to Peggy. They were alone in her tent where he often visited her under the guise of ‘discussing strategy’.

“Is that so?”

He nodded. “I was hoping that, maybe, if it turns out to be true, it could be the perfect place to, um,” he stumbled over his words as he felt heat rising in his cheeks. Peggy had probably already caught on to what he was trying to ask, but the smile that tugged at the corner of her lips made it clear she was having too much fun to let him off the hook. “To consummate, um, this,” he waved his hand between the two of them to try and get his point across, but his face scrunched up as he realised how badly he’d worded his suggestion.

Luckily Peggy seemed more amused than insulted by his poor attempt at a romantic proposition. “I rather thought we already had.”

Steve’s eyebrows furrowed.

“During an air raid, in the empty meeting room when I,” she glanced down meaningfully.

“Oh.” Of course he remembered the first time he’d been intimate with Peggy. At the time he’d almost thought he might pass out from the overload of pleasure as her lips had wrapped around him. It had been over too quickly, but when he’d looked down and noticed the traces of lipstick she’d left on him, he’d almost came all over again.

“And you insisted on returning the favour?” she continued.

He had, not out of obligation, but because he’d wanted to.

“Yeah but that doesn’t really count.” Both experiences had been mind-blowingly good, to say the least, but he didn’t think of them as ‘sex’.

“It doesn’t count?” Peggy sounded appalled.

“If you can’t get pregnant from it, then it doesn’t count as sex.”

“Oh I assure you Steve there are plenty of things we can do that can’t lead to pregnancy, but would no doubt be considered ‘sex’.”

He tried not to get too distracted by the suggestion of multiple other things they could do. “Well, I’m not sure about those, but I was under the impression that until you go all the way, you’re still a virgin.” She looked sceptical, “It’s just that Bucky said –”

Peggy’s head tipped back in laughter, “well if Bucky said!”

“I just don’t think it counts as sex.”

“Of course it’s sex, sex is its last name.”

“And a Yorkshire pudding’s last name is ‘pudding’, but that doesn’t make it pudding.” Her lips quirked; they’d had that discussion already, after a conversation about their favourite meals had left Steve confused as to why Peggy would want to put pudding on a plate with chicken and vegetables, she’d had to explain to him what a Yorkshire pudding actually was.

She stared him down with her hands on her hips.

“Not to say I didn’t enjoy it, I did, _really_. But I just don’t think it counts as ‘sex’, per se.”

“Hm,” Peggy moved a step closer to him, “so if it doesn’t count I suppose I can touch you like this,” she ran her hand down his stomach until she reached the bulge in his pants, cupping him in her warm hand, “during our next briefing?”

“I didn’t mean – uh,” his eyes slammed shut and he shivered as she moved her hand, her fingers spreading over him very deliberately.

“Yes?”

“I didn’t mean it counts as nothing,” he managed to get out between heavy breaths, “I just meant it doesn’t count as sex until you’ve reached a certain point.”

“Tell me darling, at exactly what point do you think this starts to ‘count’?” Her voice was low in his ear as she moved her hand back up him and slipped it underneath his waistband.

He wanted to come back with a witty response but his mind barely seemed able to form thoughts, let alone make words come out of his mouth.

Peggy reached down lower and took him in her hand, her thumb stroking up and down his quickly hardening length. “How about now?” she asked softly, and the muscles in his stomach twitched.

All he could do was shake his head. Peggy slowly let go of him and pulled away, and he almost whined but then her hands were on his belt, unbuckling it for him. Steve was half in a daze as she began undoing his shirt buttons, and he leaned down to kiss her deeply while her hands roamed over him. He absentmindedly kicked off his shoes and attempted to help Peggy undress him, most of his thoughts still consumed by the taste of her lipstick and the feel of her bottom lip between his teeth as he tugged at it gently.

She pushed him down onto her cot and climbed on top of him, straddling his hips. Her skirt rose up to reveal the straps of her stockings, and Steve felt himself continue to harden, his erection pressed tightly against her. Peggy leaned down to kiss him, her tongue slick and warm as she pushed into his mouth, while Steve’s hands were on her thighs, exploring the soft skin just above her stockings.

She pulled back just enough to quickly unbutton her blouse, before pressing the smooth skin of her chest against his. The sensation of it all, the unfamiliar material of her brassiere, her soft breasts spilling out of it and onto him, was almost overwhelming. His hands tightened on her thighs and he felt warmth pool in his stomach when she moaned into his mouth.

Her hips rolled against his and he whimpered.

“Does it count yet, my darling?” she cooed.

There was a part of Steve that wanted to give in, that wanted to completely surrender to her. He knew it was probably in his best interests to just admit defeat and let her have her way. But there was a much bigger and much more stubborn part of him that didn’t want to be proved wrong. So he shook his head again.

“Well, if it doesn’t count for anything then I suppose there’s not much point in carrying on,” she announced, and just like that she stood up, leaving Steve lying there, dazed and already missing her warmth and weight on top of him.

“No, wait.”

“Wait?”

“I’m not sure, I mean, I could be wrong.”

She looked him up and down. He was slightly self-conscious of the fact that he was in nothing but his underwear, his erection straining the light fabric. And the sight of Peggy’s smudged lipstick and dishevelled hair, while her blouse still hung open, wasn’t helping.

Peggy licked her lips before replying, “Why don’t you show me exactly what it is you think counts?”

“Really?” he asked with probably too much enthusiasm.

She laughed, “Yes really.”

In an instant Steve was on his knees and pulling Peggy’s lips back to his. He did his best to push down his nerves as he reached out to put his hands on Peggy’s waist, gently guiding her down onto the cot with him without breaking the kiss.

Steve wasn’t sure whether he’d won or lost the argument. He didn’t think he’d won, but with Peggy draped over him while her fingers combed through his hair, it definitely didn’t feel like he’d lost, either.


	4. Pyjama prompt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The full prompt: I got myself pretty nightwear and thought that'd make a nice fluff prompt: Peggy still getting used to modern day's fashion and modelling her new nightwear for Steve. And I don't mean lingerie but simple cute pajamas. ^_^ If you find the time of course.

Steve flicked through a magazine Peggy had left on the nightstand by their bed while he waited for her to join him. It was a fashion magazine, one of the higher end ones.

“Shall I turn the light off?” she asked.

He glanced up to reply but forgot what he’d been about to say when he saw the pale pink fleece that covered her from head to toe.

“Is that… are you wearing a onesie?”

“I’m wearing my pyjamas,” she answered brusquely. “Now, are you ready for me to turn the light off?”

“It has a tail.”

“Your point being?” She turned to face him with a glare that looked at odds with her outfit.

“When did you buy a onesie?”

She sighed loudly, “if you must know Tony bought it for me last Easter, as a joke I’m sure, but all my pyjamas are currently in the wash.”

“You wear my shirts more often than your own pyjamas.” Not that he was complaining, one of his favourite things was the sight of Peggy wearing nothing but one of his shirts.

“Yes but all of those are dirty as well. We really ought to try and keep on top of our household chores darling.”

“I’ll do a load tomorrow,” he said absentmindedly, putting the magazine back on the nightstand.

He studied her for a moment, taking note of the white oval that covered the front of her sleepwear. “What is it supposed to be?”

“It’s supposed to be pyjamas, now shall we go to bed?”

“It looks like it has a hood.”

She ignored him, turning to switch off the light, but by the dim lamplight he could still make out two long pink ears and a whiskered face.

He gasped in excitement, “You’re an Easter bunny!”

She turned to face him with her hands on her hips and a scolding glare. “And you won’t be telling anyone about this.”

He gave her his most innocent expression as he motioned zipping his lips sealed.

“I think you look cute,” he added, grinning up at her as she made her way towards their bed.

“I look absurd, budge up.”

She lifted the covers and settled against him, her back to his chest.

He hummed in contentment as he wrapped his arms tightly around her, his fingers brushing against the soft fabric. “It makes you extra cuddly.”

“If you love it so much why don’t you buy one for yourself, I understand they also make them in men’s sizes.”

“We could get matching ones?” He didn’t try to hide his enthusiasm as he teased her.

“That’s not at all what I meant and you know it,” she pouted at him.

Steve reached over to turn off the lamp before burrowing back down into the bed, holding Peggy close to him as he nuzzled her hair.

“You make an adorable bunny, you know.”

“Piss off,” she hissed as she elbowed him in the ribs.

He couldn’t hide the laughter that shook his body.

“Another comment like that and I’ll be ordering you an even more ridiculous one first thing tomorrow,” she threatened.

“I can’t wait,” he smiled, leaning forward to plant a kiss on her cheek. Though he was teasing, it did look rather cosy.


	5. Steve and peggy grocery shopping

“We don’t need four boxes of Lucky Charms Steve!” Peggy threw her hands up in exasperation as Steve dumped the pile of cereal boxes into their already too full shopping trolley.

“But if I don’t buy them now I’ll just need to get more later in the week.”

“You’ve already got two boxes of Cinnamon Toast Crunch and a box of Fruit Loops in here.” Not that you could see them, buried underneath the piles of food that would barely get them through the week, thanks to Steve’s serum-enhanced metabolism.

“I like cereal.” He said matter-of-factly.

Peggy rolled her eyes. “You like rotting your teeth with all that sugar, would be more accurate.”

“I like eating food that tastes good. I still don’t understand why you’d rather eat cardboard flakes.”

“ _Corn flakes,_ ” she corrected as she smacked him on the chest. “And they taste perfectly fine, thank you.”

He chuckled before giving their trolley a final once over. “Are we done?”

“Almost, I’ve one more thing to get.” She commandeered the trolley and headed towards the pharmacy aisle.

Coming to a stop in front of the section she needed, Peggy took a moment to look over her options before picking up the rectangular box.

She turned to Steve. “I know it’s rather expensive for something that’s used once and then thrown away, but I’d feel somewhat uneasy relying on the value brand test to provide us with a potentially life-altering result. And I think the slight extravagance can be justified in this case, don’t you agree?”

Steve’s mouth was agape. It took him a few attempts before he finally managed to form a sentence. “A pregnancy test?”

“Yes. I’m late.” She paused while he seemed to process her answer. “By quite a few days, actually.”

Without a moments warning Steve was wrapped around her, hugging her close, planting a row of kisses across her cheek.

Peggy pulled away slightly to look at him. “You know I haven’t actually taken the test yet?”

“But you might be…” He was beaming.

With his arm still firmly around her waist, Steve reached around Peggy to pick up three of the more expensive branded pregnancy tests. She raised her eyebrow.

“Just to be sure,” he explained.

She plucked one from his hand and put it back on the shelf. “I’ll allow one extra to confirm the results.”

He nodded.

“How soon can you take one?” Steve glanced around in excitement, his eyes scanning the supermarket until he spotted the sign for the restrooms.

“Tell me you’re not serious?”

He at least had the decency to look slightly ashamed.

“When I get home, in my own time, and in the comfort of my own bathroom, I will take one pregnancy test.” She said sternly.

He opened his mouth to protest but she raised her hand to stop him.

“Then we can decide if we feel the second test is necessary.”


	6. Steve and Peggy at the parents-teacher meeting

Miss Taylor tapped her pencil against the pad in front of her, scanning the list of names until she reached James’.

“Ah.” She looked up at them with pursed lips. “James is a very… singular child.”

“How so?” Peggy’s brows furrowed together.

“Well he’s quite the little storyteller, and certainly one for fables and embellishments.” Her lips stretched into a tight, sympathetic smile.

“Embellishments?” Steve repeated.

Miss Taylor cleared her throat softly, “he often recites the story of how his father travelled across the world, punching Adolf Hitler over _200 times_.”

Steve shifted in his seat uncomfortably. Peggy merely sighed. Though they didn’t advertise the fact that Steve had been, and technically still was, _Captain America_ , they didn’t make any extraordinary effort to conceal it, either. If Miss Taylor bothered to look closely enough she would most likely be able to connect the dots and realise that their son wasn’t, in fact, a liar.

“Miss Taylor,” Peggy leaned forward with a forced smile, “I’m doubt it’s uncommon for children to embellish their stories from time to time. It shows he possesses a vivid imagination, surely?”

Miss Taylor’s smile tightened. “He also likes to tell the story of how his mother took out _twelve_ enemy soldiers with only a pistol, then, after the bullets had run out, took out another _four_ with her bare hands.”

Peggy kept her smile in place as she leant back in her seat. She was going to kill Dugan for this.

“We’ll talk to James about the… stories.” Steve reassured her.

“Oh, that’s not all.”

“It’s not?” Steve almost winced.

“There’s also the small matter of the fighting. In the last month alone James has gotten into _three_ fights with other children. The most recent time I found him attempting to pin down a child twice his size. He told me he was keeping him there so little Samuel could get away.”

“It sounds like James looks out for the smaller kids,” Steve said, not making any effort to keep the pride off his face.

“Oh yes, there’s always a tale about someone else having their pigtails pulled or their lunch stolen, with James no doubt swooping in to save the day.” She looked as though she was actually enjoying startling them with her interpretation of James’ behaviour.

Steve was leaning so far forward Peggy was surprised he was still in his chair. His tone was bitter when he spoke, “I’m sure if James says he saw someone being picked on, then someone was being picked on.”

Peggy placed her palm on his chest, pushing him back in his seat. “What my husband means to say is, our son is not a liar.” She kept her tone even, her smile still fixed on her face. “James is not particularly big for his age, but he is smart. I don’t believe he’d pick fights with children twice his size without good reason.”

Miss Taylor looked as though she was about to protest, but Peggy carried on.

“Perhaps the issue lies in your inability to notice bullying within your classroom? I’d be more than happy to have a word with the principal about finding you some assistance.”

The woman’s jaw dropped for a split second before she pulled herself together, her polite smile firmly back in place. “That won’t be necessary.”

“Oh good. Will that be all?”

Miss Taylor nodded, still a little stunned. Peggy stood and marched out the door, leaving Steve hurrying behind her.

“Did you just threaten James’ teacher?” he said in disbelief.

“It was not a threat, I merely highlighted the gaps in her teaching abilities.” She was still fuming. “Besides, it’s your fault we’re in this position.”

“ _My fault?_ ” Steve eyebrows were almost at his hairline.

“Picking fights with bullies twice his size? Sounds awfully familiar, don’t you think?”

“I’m pretty certain the first thing I ever saw you do was punch a private in the face for making fun of your accent.” Steve replied smugly.

He had a point.

“Yes, well, that’s neither here nor there. What are we going to do about James?”

Steve frowned. “I think James is just fine as he is.”

Peggy rolled her eyes. She wasn’t sure whether to feel proud or concerned that James seemed to have picked up both her and Steve’s trait of standing up for themselves with their fists.


	7. Drunk Christmas pranking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was a combination of two prompts:  
> steggy pranking each other? :)  
> STEGGY CHRISTMAS. BONUS POINTS FOR AWKWARD HIGHJINX

It was the commandos first Christmas together, and thankfully there had been no missions scheduled on the actual day, or the few days either side, allowing the team a well-earned break. In true commandos style they used their free evenings to get as steaming drunk as humanly possible, and their free days to sleep it off.

Christmas Eve was no exception. They were gathered around the fire as half the team listened to Morita’s slurred retelling of the time his ma caught him stealing his dad’s liquor. The rest were either too incoherent to pay attention, or had passed out entirely.

Though Steve couldn’t get buzzed in any way himself, he could definitely enjoy watching the rest of the team lose all their inhibitions.

Drunk Peggy was his particular favourite. He was so used to seeing her controlled and in command, that it was fascinating to see her so unguarded. She was currently sprawled across him, eyelids heavy as she tried to hold onto Morita’s words as his story dragged on.

They’d long given up trying to hide their relationship from the rest of the team, but that didn’t mean they made an exhibition of it either. Except for when Peggy got drunk. Drunk Peggy was _extremely_ handsy and barely let Steve wander more than three feet away from her. Not that he minded.

He ran his fingers through her hair, brushing the loose strands off her face. He’d lost track of what time it was, but Peggy, much like the rest of the team, was absolutely shit-faced.

Without warning her head snapped up. “I have a brilliant idea,” she announced.

“You looked like you were about to doze off just a second ago.”

“Take me to Dugan’s tent.” She pointed out towards the rest of the camp, though she was a good few feet off the direction of Dugan’s tent.

He moved her arm ‘til it was pointing in the direction she was trying to lead him to.

“Yes. There.”

“You’re very demanding when you’re drunk.”

“I’m not drunk,” she tried to argue, though her words were slightly slurred. “Besides,” she lowered her voice, leaning in close, “I know how you love taking orders from me.”

Her hand rubbed up his thigh to emphasise exactly what she was getting at, though he hadn’t needed the hint. He did love taking orders from Peggy when it came to matters in the bedroom. Not because she was more experienced, but because for some reason he got a thrill out of it.

As her hand continued rubbing up his leg, he suddenly became very conscious of just how close the rest of the team was sitting.

He extracted himself from under Peggy in one fluid movement, then crouched down in front of her.

“Alright, up you get.”

She jumped on his back and he stood up, carrying her towards the other side of the camp.

“Why do we need to go to Dugan’s tent?” He asked.

He felt her glance around before leaning in close to whisper her response. “We’re going to prank him.”

Steve could smell the whiskey on her breath.

“Prank him?”

“Yes, we’ll wrap all of his belonging up like presents. He’ll have to unwrap everything just to go to bed!”

“Wrap them with what?” He asked sceptically.

“ _Damn._ I hadn’t thought that far ahead.”

“Had you thought about it at all?”

She smacked him on the chest. “It is a brilliant plan, I just need…” she trailed off.

“A sober mind?” He teased.

“String! Put me down!”

He felt her wriggle in an attempt to get herself down, so he bent his knees just enough for her to reach the ground. He probably should have paid more attention to just how drunk Peggy was before he released her from his grip, because she’d barely even managed one step forward before she was tumbling towards the ground.

He caught her and pulled her upright.

“Well, well, well, what do have here?”

The sound of Bucky’s voice startled them both.

“We’re arranging an early Christmas present for Dugan.” Peggy announced. Steve still had his arms wrapped around her, wary of letting her go.

“A Christmas present for Dugan? Is that what we’re calling this now?” Bucky chuckled, motioning between Steve and Peggy.

“Oh please, I have no intention of sleeping with Steve in Dugan’s tent. I have my own tent for that, thank you very much.”

Bucky’s head tipped back as he howled with laughter.

“ _Peggy._ ” Steve could feel the colour rising in his cheeks.

Bucky held his hands up. “I guess I better leave you to it.”

“No! We need your help!” Peggy protested.

Bucky’s mouth dropped open.

“I think she means with the prank,” Steve clarified. “We’re supposed to be pranking Dugan.”

“Yes, the prank.” She lunged forward and grabbed Bucky’s arm, pulling him towards her.

Steve loosened his grip on Peggy, but she still felt unsteady, so he kept one arm around her waist.

Bucky thought for a moment. “Well, if you want to get Dugan good, you could hide all his stuff up in the trees. Have you ever see him try to climb? He’d have no hope of getting it back without begging one of us to help him!”

Peggy swayed in Steve’s arms, and Bucky seemed to be rethinking the tree-climbing plan.

“Or, we could put a bunch of mistletoe around the camp, make it real uncomfortable for the fellas when they bump into each other under it tomorrow morning.”

Peggy seemed to be lost in thought so Steve nudged her.

“Peg, what do you think? The tree prank or the mistletoe prank?”

“Hmm?” Her brows furrowed together. “Who are we pranking?”

Bucky burst into laughter. “I thought this thing was your idea!”

Steve chuckled as he kissed the top of Peggy’s head. “Maybe it’s time we went to bed.”

She blinked up at him, confusion clear on her face. “The three of us?”

“And on that note,” Bucky said through his laughter, “Merry Christmas Carter.” He slapped Steve on the back before walking away.

“Was it something I said?” She looked up at him innocently.

Steve chuckled, shaking his head. “I love you Peg.”


	8. Steve comforting Peggy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The full prompt: angsty Steggy prompt: a rare moment in which Peggy lowers her guard and breaks down because of how she's being treated at the SSR but Steve is there to comfort her.

Thompson’s words were still echoing in Peggy’s mind as she made her way home from the office. She’d only stayed late to complete the report on her last field mission, she hadn’t expected Thompson to be there too.

Becoming Chief of the SSR hadn’t brought him the admiration he thought he deserved, and he made it quite clear he held Peggy responsible. His own team favoured her, so he’d made it his personal mission to try and tear down her confidence, one bitter comment at a time.

Her last mission hadn’t gone to plan, and a young agent had been injured on her watch. She’d spent her day attempting to form a report, trying to make sense of what had gone wrong. It had been draining, and by the end of it she hadn’t had the energy to rebut Thompson’s criticisms, so she’d just stood there while he’d poked and prodded, trying to hit her weak spots.

She blinked back tears as the journey home dragged on. All she wanted now was Steve, Steve’s arms around her, Steve’s kind words soothing her.

As soon as Peggy had walked through the door to their apartment and shed her coat she was searching for him. She found him sitting on the end of their bed, flicking through his sketchpad. Without saying a word she took the pad from his hands and placed it on the bed, she climbed into his lap and wrapped her arms around him, pressing her face against his neck.

She felt him tug at her arms. “Peg, are you ok?”

She clung tighter, but he was pushing her away, trying to see her face.

“Has something happened?”

“Do I need a reason to hug you?” She snapped. She hadn’t intended her words to come out so bitterly, the last thing she wanted was to take her anger out on Steve.

He pulled her against him, enveloping her in his arms. “Of course not,” he murmured against her hair.

They sat together quietly for a while. He must have felt her tears on his neck, but he didn’t say anything.

“It’s just something Thompson said to me,” she confessed eventually. “I can usually ignore him, but I’m just so tired of it all.”

Steve’s arms tightened around her.

“What did he say?” he asked carefully.

“That it’s my fault Garcia was injured. That I don’t have the skills to lead a mission, I don’t have the skills to lead anything. That it doesn’t come naturally to me the way it does to a man, and I should give up trying to kid myself.” She spoke blandly, she was too exhausted to be angry.

When Steve didn’t reply she pulled away enough to look up at him. His jaw jutted out the way it did whenever he was really angry about something.

“Thompson’s a fucking idiot.”

She laughed as she leaned back into him. “You don’t need to tell me that.”

“Do you want me to –”

“You’re not going to punch him.”

“I wasn’t going to suggest punching him.”

Peggy rolled her eyes, she could already see where this was going.

“I’ll make it look like an accident. No one will suspect a thing.”

God, he actually sounded serious. “I’m sure no one will suspect the ever righteous Captain America, but I’d be a prime suspect.”

“We’ll have air-tight alibis.”

She laughed, it was a rather tempting idea.

Steve brushed his fingers through her hair, pushing it off her face. “You know it’s not true, don’t you?” he asked quietly.

“I know. But what he said about Garcia,” she paused.

Steve shook his head. “We didn’t have all the information, you couldn’t have known what you were walking into. The important thing is that when things started to turn sour, your priority was to get your team out alive, I doubt it would have been the same if Thompson had been in charge.”

She hugged him tightly.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“You don’t need to thank me Peggy.”


	9. Modern Steggy reacting to Valentine's Day hoopla

Peggy had never cared much for Valentine’s Day celebrations. When she’d been younger she’d occasionally received gifts from hopeful admirers, but it had always felt somewhat hollow, being gifted with a generic card and sloppily arranged flowers from men she hardly knew but who seemed to think they knew her.

When she first started to see Steve as more than a friend the world had been at war. Though it hadn’t stopped the day being celebrated, Peggy simply hadn’t had the time to consider buying a gift or arranging a romantic evening, there was too much work to be done. She wasn’t sure whether she and Steve would’ve made time to celebrate the day after the war was over, but as things went she lost Steve before they had the chance to find out, and after that she quite deliberately stopped paying attention to the holiday entirely.

But now she was here, with Steve, and they had through some miracle been allowed a second chance at a life together. It was to be their first Valentine’s Day together, in a world that wasn’t currently torn apart by war, and Peggy hadn’t a clue how to celebrate it.

The holiday seemed to have snowballed out of control since she’d last paid attention to it. It had always seemed to her rather a tacky and forced method of displaying affection, but in the modern world she’d not long woken up in it seemed to have become overdone to the point of absurdity, over-the-top in a way only Americans could manage.

She was tempted to simply ignore the fuss, after all, one really ought to display their love for their partner for more than one day a year, surely? But Steve was incredibly romantic, and as tacky as the day was, she’d hate for him to mistake her disinterest in the holiday for disinterest in him.

So she bought Steve heart shaped chocolates, a teddy bear with a heart shaped nose, and an enormous card with an appropriately soppy message. Though she felt the more adult gifts were going a bit too far, she did purchase some very expensive, very flattering crimson lingerie. It was a gift she expected they’d both thoroughly enjoy.

When the day came Steve made no mention of the holiday, so she guessed they’d exchange gifts in the evening. Later that day when Steve retreated to the kitchen to begin making dinner, Peggy snuck off to the bedroom to put on her new lingerie. She wore only a silk robe over the top and gathered her gifts for Steve.

He was so engrossed in preparing their dinner that he didn’t look up when Peggy entered the room. She took the opportunity to surprise him and pressed her body up against his back, wrapping her arms around his waist. He seemed to take notice of her attire when she pressed her lips to his neck, one of his many weak spots. Steve twisted in her arms and caught her lips in his.

Before they could get carried away Peggy took Steve’s hand and led him into the living room, where she’d very neatly arranged his gifts on the coffee table.

She’d expected him to be excited, or to smile at the very least. But he just looked down at the arrangement of presents with a frown. Peggy wasn’t sure what to make of it.

“I assume you know it’s Valentine’s Day?” Peggy asked uncertainly.

Steve’s frown deepened. “I do, I just… I didn’t realise we were getting each other gifts.” He turned to her, looking as confused as she felt. “You hate Valentine’s Day.”

“I don’t _hate_ it.”

“When we walked past that Valentine’s display in the store the other week you made gagging noises and said it was absurd that people considered a generic card and overpriced chocolates a romantic gesture.”

He wasn’t wrong, though she’d forgotten she’d been so vocal about her distaste.

“Yes, well, I thought you liked it, and I don’t mind it half as much if it makes you happy.”

A grin spread across Steve’s face.

“But I suppose if you don’t like all this –” she gestured towards the pile of gifts.

“No! I love it!” Steve leaned over and picked up the smug-looking teddy bear. It was all white with a red heart-shaped nose. Peggy thought the thing was awful, but Steve was smiling down at it. “I just wish I’d known we were getting gifts, I would’ve gone all out.”

“Why didn’t you?”

He looked sheepish. “I thought you didn’t like it, and I wouldn’t have enjoyed it so much if it made you unhappy.”

Peggy laughed. “We make quite a pair.”

Steve put the stuffed toy down and wrapped his arms around Peggy. His lips traced kisses down her neck, then along her collarbone.

He paused to murmur against her skin, “I’m sorry I didn’t get you anything. Tell me how I can make it up to you.”

“You needn’t apologise Steve, it was just a misunderstanding.” She ran her fingers through his hair.

Steve’s hand skimmed down her sides, then roamed across her stomach until he found the belt of her robe and promptly untied it. He spread the robe open and lowered his head to kiss and gently bite at the tops of her breasts.

Steve cupped her breast and she groaned, leaning into his touch.

“I want to make it up to you Peg,” he looked up at her though his lashes.

“Oh.” She finally caught on to the meaning of his words. “Well in that case, on your knees soldier.”


	10. Steve or Peggy taking care of the other when they're sick

Steve’s mission had overrun by two whole days. He hadn’t been able to tell Peggy about the delay directly, but he knew she would’ve found out through Maria. He and Nat hadn’t got back to base until 2am, and he’d had to get through another hour and 40 minutes of reporting and debriefing before he could finally get away.

He didn’t expect Peggy to be up, so the sound of the TV surprised him as he softly pushed open the door to their apartment.

The room was bathed in the flickering light from the screen, and Steve could just make out the top of Peggy’s head from under a pile of blankets. He walked over to her as quietly as he could, kicking off his shoes and dumping his duffle bag on the floor as he went.

Peggy didn’t stir as he pulled the blankets away from her face and lightly kissed her cheek, but she started to groan when he slid his hands underneath her, ready to carry her to bed.

“Sorry,” he murmured. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

She blinked up at him, getting her bearings.

“You’re home?” Her voice was croaky from sleep.

“Yeah, took a little longer than I’d hoped, but we got the intel we needed.”

Peggy reached up to brush her fingers through his hair. It had been a few days since he’d washed it, but she didn’t seem to mind.

He sighed, closing his eyes at the pleasant sensation.

“No injuries?” She asked softly, her voice still rasping.

He shook his head without opening his eyes.

“Good,” she managed to splutter out, before she descended into a coughing fit.

Steve opened his eyes, frowning down at her. He hadn’t noticed the colour in her cheeks, or the light sheen of sweat that covered her face.

When she finally got her breath back Steve pressed the back of his hand to her forehead. Peggy scowled at him.

Her head was warm against his hand, she probably had a fever.

“You’re sick.”

“I’ll live.”

Steve sighed. “I know you’ll live, but you’ll probably need to take it easy for the next few days.”

“I can’t afford to take it easy, I’ve got a meeting with Fury first thing tomorrow.” She pushed him back and sat up, but the motion caused her to sway unsteadily.

Steve held his arm across her back, steadying her.

“I’m sure Fury will be completely comfortable with catching you when you stand up too quickly.”

Peggy glared at him. “What are you suggesting? That you act as my chaperone?”

“I’m suggesting you call in sick and stay home.”

She crossed her arms.

Steve leaned in closer, kissing her temple. “I’ve got the next few days off, we can curl up on the couch and catch up on some TV. I’ll even make you my home-made soup.”

“Your home-made soup is just throwing vegetables into the blender until it looks a good colour.”

Steve chuckled. “Is that not an enticing offer?”

“I’ll consider it.” Peggy sniffed, leaning into Steve’s side.

“Have you taken anything?” he asked quietly.

She shook her head, so he propped her up against the back of the couch before heading to the bathroom to search the medicine cabinet for some Tylenol.

“We haven’t got much for colds or flu,” he said as he re-entered the living room. Peggy was already dozing off again. “I’ll head out first thing tomorrow to get some supplies,” he added as he kneeled down in front of her, handing her the pills and a glass of water.

When she’d taken them Steve placed his hand on her too-warm cheek.

“Let’s go to bed,” Peggy suggested.

Wanting nothing more after an exhausting mission and almost a week away from Peggy, Steve lifted her in his arms and headed towards the bedroom.

“My legs still work, you know.” She teased, but she wrapped her arm around his neck and rested her head against his nonetheless.

“I’m sure they do, but we’d better not take any chances,” he joked.

Peggy chuckled.

When he’d placed her on the bed he quickly removed his shirt and trousers, leaving him in just his boxers, before he climbed in with her.

She pulled him towards her and rearranged him until she was comfortable, one leg across his hips, her head against his chest and an arm wrapped around his waist.

“Finished?” He asked, not that he really minded Peggy curling herself around him.

“Mm,” she mumbled, her eyes already closed.

Steve reached for the blankets and pulled them up around the two of them. Then, having second thoughts, folded them down on Peggy’s side to expose her arm and half of her back. He didn’t want her to overheat.

He was just drifting off when he felt Peggy stirring.

“Fine,” she grumbled.

“Fine what?”

“Fine I’ll stay home. But we’re not watching Dance Moms.”

He laughed, shaking Peggy on his chest. “If you say so.”


	11. Biting to stay quiet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this is the first actual sex scene I've written (so I'd love feedback!) and was inspired by beautifulwhensarcastic's post on tumblr (http://caleysteggy.tumblr.com/post/140525724171/beautifulwhensarcastic-steve-and-peggy-treating) and gatorjen's tags.

As soon as they’d got through the debrief they made their excuses. Peggy was off to write up a report, and Steve had left not long after, claiming he needed to wash and catch up on some sleep. He hadn’t missed Nat’s snicker as he headed towards a compartment near the rear of the Quinjet.

The door to the tiny room they’d found didn’t lock so Steve had wedged the table up against it. The table that Peggy was now sat on, her legs wrapped around his waist.

Peggy was already down to her underwear, and it was Steve’s efficiency they had to thank for that. Her new combat suit had a confusing combination of buttons and zippers, perfectly designed to combine protection, freedom of movement, and weapon concealment. Not designed with quick removal in mind, but Steve had had enough practice now to be able to get it off Peggy in record time.

Peggy, on the other hand, had got halfway through undressing him before she’d got distracted. By his neck, apparently, if the amount of attention she was giving it was anything to go by. The top half of Steve’s suit hung from his hips, where Peggy’s hands had stopped, her fingers tucked underneath the tight material.

Steve moved his hands slowly up Peggy’s thighs, reaching around to get a good grip so he could pull her closer. She groaned a little when he did, the sound vibrating against his neck.

“Out of these.” She punctuated her request with a sharp slap on his ass.

“Yes ma’am.”

Unfortunately that meant extracting himself from Peggy’s hold. His boots were laced up and came halfway up his calves – kicking them off wasn’t an easy task.

“You need to talk to someone about redesigning those boots,” Peggy said as if reading his mind. She’d jumped down from the table and climbed onto the small bed with him, pressing herself against his back as he leant forward to remove the boots in question.

“They work just fine.” He’d already managed to take one off.

“They’re highly impractical,” Peggy said between kisses along his shoulder.

“I don’t think they were designed with _this_ in mind.”

“Well, next time your suit is redesigned perhaps you ought to specify how vital rapid removal is for your… post-mission tension release.”

“Oh is that what this is?” He kicked the boots across the floor, and threw the suit on top of them.

“I meant everything,” Peggy chided.

Steve didn’t need to be told twice, his boxers promptly joined the pile of clothes on the floor.

When he sat back down on the bed Peggy guided him so he was on his back. She lifted one leg over him and lowered herself down. She was pressed against his lower stomach, and he could feel how wet she was through her panties.

It made him groan and grind his hips up involuntarily.

“Keep still,” she warned, reaching back to place a firm hand on his thigh.

He obeyed, and Peggy moved her hands up to remove her bra. The sight of her breasts – full and soft, sheathed in a thin layer of sweat – had him aching for her.

“That was quite the stunt you pulled back there.”

Steve couldn’t get his mind to recall anything outside of the room they’d commandeered, outside of Peggy’s weight on top of him, so she had to elaborate.

“You were outnumbered twelve to one, you had several guns aimed at your head at one point, and yet you managed to escape with barely a scratch, taking them all out with moves reminiscent of a gymnastic routine.” She leaned over him, her hands resting on the mattress above his shoulders.

Her breasts pressed against his chest and the sensation made his voice come out shakier than he’d have liked.

“Yeah I… I’ve been working on my technique.”

“It was quite something,” she said huskily, as her hips rolled against him.

He leant up just enough to catch her lips against his, and kissed her roughly. When they pulled apart she was breathless.

“Nothing compared to you kicking that guy through a wall though,” he countered.

“Oh you liked that, did you?” Her voice was teasing as she nipped at the delicate skin on his throat.

“Mm-hmm. And when you used that metal pipe to take out five men in a row, that was…” his eyes rolled back in his head as he felt Peggy’s hand reach down, stroking up and down his length in slow, firm motions.

“It was what, my darling?”

He could practically hear her smile.

“Good,” was all he managed to stammer out.

Her lips pressed against the side of his mouth, and he turned his head so he could kiss her properly. When he pulled her bottom lip gently between his teeth she groaned into his mouth and warmth pooled in his stomach. He needed to be inside her.

His hand reached down between them, slipping under her panties and rubbing her in circular motions, the way he knew she liked.

Peggy moaned against his skin, gasping at his touch. As much as he loved to hear her, he was conscious that the Quinjet walls weren’t soundproof, and the rest of the team probably weren’t too far away.

But then she moaned his name and he forgot about the team for a second.

“Can I –”

“Yes,” she replied before he could finish, knowing what he would ask.

He quickly tore her panties off of her, discarding them on the floor. It wasn’t the first pair he’d destroyed, and he doubted it would be the last.

Peggy lifted her hips and then guided him into her, her eyes drifting closed as she lowered herself onto him. Steve waited for her to set the pace.

They soon picked up a rhythm. It was slow and deliberate, allowing Steve to enjoy the feel of her surrounding him. He was still touching Peggy just where she liked, while her lips were on his collarbone, licking and nipping at the sensitive skin there.

When their pace started to speed up Peggy started to get louder.

“The team,” he managed to grunt. “They’ll hear.”

“Let them,” Peggy retorted.

“I’m serious.”

She groaned again before reaching for the pillow, pulling it towards her mouth.

“The pillowcase,” Steve warned. Messy bedsheets were one thing, but there was only one person on the team who wore crimson red lipstick, and leaving the remnants of it smudged over the sheets wouldn’t help their efforts to hide their post-mission fondue.

“For goodness sake!” Peggy threw the pillow back towards the head of the bed.

“Here, use me.” Steve cupped Peggy’s cheek and guided her mouth to his chest.

She didn’t protest, she simply pressed her open mouth to his skin and picked up their rhythm.

As Steve went back to massaging her in circular motions, he felt her moan into his chest. Her teeth scraped against his skin in a way that made him shiver. As she repeated the motion, this time with a stronger groan, his head tipped back. He was panting, his mouth agape, and he was sure he looked ridiculous but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

His free hand reached up to run his fingers through Peggy’s hair, scraping his nails gently against her scalp. As she moved her lips up his chest, biting and sucking to hide her moans, he cupped the back of her head, keeping her close.

“ _Peggy._ ”

He felt her tighten around him and he guessed she was close, so he redoubled his efforts.

She’d reached his shoulder when he felt her start to come apart. Her moans reverberated through his whole body, and the feel of her tongue against his skin, her hips rolling against his, was overwhelming.

Her teeth dug into his shoulder with a hoarse moan as she peaked, and it tipped Steve over the edge with her.

Peggy continued to ride him slowly while he came down from his high, pulling every last bit of pleasure from him, and as his breathing slowed, he felt her lips on his skin. She was gently leaving a trail of kisses along the skin she’d marked.

When she noticed him watching her, she chuckled.

“So much for keeping quiet.”

“Huh?” He knew her mouth against his skin hadn’t silenced the moans, but it had at least muffled them enough that they probably wouldn’t be heard throughout the entire Quinjet.

“For all your scolding, you’re the one to moan like it’s going out of style.”

“I didn’t…” he tried to recall what he’d been doing with his mouth as he’d fallen apart under Peggy’s practiced thrusts, but all he could remember was her teeth against his skin, her moans vibrating through him.

He might’ve yelled her name once or twice.

“ _Dammit._ Do you think anyone heard?”

“I think _everyone_ heard, darling,” Peggy said as she reached up, brushing his hair back from his forehead.

“I can’t go back out there.” Steve could feel his cheeks burning.

“I wasn’t going to suggest going anywhere, we’ve still got over an hour left before we land.”

He wrapped his arms around her, tucking her against his side. “I’ll need to use the pillow next time.”


	12. Someone straddling the other while they’re “trying to read”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The full prompt: Someone straddling the other while they’re “trying to read” and slowly getting them to put the book away, for the tropes, please. Because I am in a mood which is a dire need of some good Steggy lovin' in a funny way. LOL

“Why don’t you finish that later, darling.”

Peggy was perched on Steve’s lap, knees either side of his thighs as she straddled him.

He hadn’t looked up from his book when she’d entered the room wearing a very revealing silk robe, hadn’t noticed when she’d loosened the tie to reveal more of her ample cleavage, so she’d had to be clearer.

Steve finally lifted his gaze when he felt her weight in his lap.

_“Fuck.”_ His voice was gloriously hoarse.

“Well, I was hoping…” She slipped the robe off one shoulder, enough to make it clear she wasn’t wearing anything underneath.

Steve groaned. “I’m almost done, just let me finish this chapter.”

Peggy raised an eyebrow in question.

“Do you understand what I’m offering, Steve?”

“Of course I do, and I’m not turning you down.” His free hand grabbed her hip, kneading gently to make his point clear.

“But I think they’re about to reveal who the murderer is, I just have a few more pages.” He looked up at her apologetically before turning his gaze back to the book in his hand.

She stared at him incredulously for a moment, expecting him to change his mind, but he kept his eyes firmly on his novel.

“You’d rather read than take me to bed?”

“I’d rather do both. If you just give me a few minutes, I’m almost done.” He moved his hand down to her thigh, gripping firmly, but his eyes didn’t leave the page.

Peggy huffed, but it produced no reaction from Steve.

“Fine,” she sighed, “if you’d rather read than satisfy your wife, I suppose I’ll have to take care of myself.”

Steve didn’t offer a response, so she moved her hand very deliberately down her front, caressing her chest slowly before moving down lower.

She reached down, in between her legs, and began to rub with practiced ease. It wasn’t until she let out a small groan and rolled her hips against Steve’s lap that he finally looked up from his book.

He glanced down at her hand, eyes wide.

_“Jesus fucking Christ, Peggy.”_ He groaned, leaning back into the couch.

She didn’t let his reaction interrupt her pace, grinding against his thighs as she felt her release start to build.

Steve leaned forward, a hungry look on his face, but she placed her free hand on his chest.

“Now, don’t let me stop you from finishing your book.”

With that Steve flung the book in question across the room. She heard it hit the floor with a thud.

“Fuck the book,” he grunted.

“I’d prefer it if you fucked me,” Peggy murmured in Steve’s ear, eliciting a low groan from him.

He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her up with him as he stood. Their lips met hungrily, biting and wet, as Steve carried her across the room.

They didn’t make it far before he pushed her up against the wall and she wrapped her thighs tightly around his waist. Steve’s mouth was on her exposed shoulder, licking and biting, his lips soft against her skin.

Peggy glanced at the book spread open on the floor. Steve had surely lost his place, but she didn’t feel an ounce of regret.


	13. Steve and Peggy trying to get the other one out of bed early in the morning to make coffee and breakfast

“ _Steve_.” Peggy nudged him again with her foot.

He mumbled incoherently, rolling over.

“It’s your turn.”

He stretched out lazily, before wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her against his side. “Since when do we take turns?”

“Since I did it last time.”

Steve lifted his head to look at her, eyebrow raised. “You mean that time you brought me a cup of coffee? After you’d already drank half?”

“You drank it in bed, didn’t you?” She ran her hand over his bare chest, tracing the familiar canvas. “Besides, I was merely testing it for you,” she added cheekily, pulling her hand away.

He chuckled, letting his head fall back against the pillow.

“I think you oughta make it, since I can never get your tea right.”

She sighed. “It’s the thought that counts. And an under brewed cup of tea is far more enjoyable when drunk in bed.”

Steve burrowed deeper under the covers, closing his eyes. “But you’re much better at boiling the eggs so they’re perfect for dipping.”

She frowned. “I fancy pancakes.”

“In that case, there’s plenty of flour in the tin. I’ll have seven. With syrup.”

Peggy smacked his hip through the covers.

His half-hearted “ow” was far from convincing.

With his eyes closed and the covers bundled up to his neck, Steve looked firmly set on staying in bed. So she decided to take a different route.

Peggy leaned in close, pressing her lips to the sensitive spot behind his ear. Her hand found its way to his stomach, fingers fluttering softly against his skin. She felt Steve’s arm tighten around her waist.

“I’ll make it worth your while,” she murmured against his ear, before pulling his earlobe gently between her teeth.

Steve whined, pulling her tightly against him before letting her go with a sigh.

“ _Fine._ ” He swung his legs round and stood up.

Peggy smiled, feeling incredibly pleased with herself as she settled back into bed.

She heard a few soft steps before she felt the covers ripped off of her, the cold air hitting her bare legs.

“What _on earth_ –”

Steve reached for her and pulled her across the bed, lifting her into his arms. She struggled half-heartedly, smacking his chest.

“You clearly don’t value your life, Rogers.” Peggy glared at him.

He laughed, the movement shaking her.

“To clarify, I asked for breakfast _in bed_.”

He smiled, feigning innocence. “We can eat it in bed, if that’s what you want.”

She pouted, resting her head against his shoulder as he carried her towards the kitchen.

“You know what they say – the couple that makes breakfast together, stays together.”

“What do they say about the couple that pulls one another, kicking and screaming, from a warm bed?” Peggy replied grumpily.

“You tell me,” Steve chuckled, dropping a kiss on the top of her head.

He put her down in one of the kitchen chairs, and pulled a frying pan out of the cupboard. “So… pancakes?”


	14. Steve braiding Peggy's hair

“It looks different when you do it, why is it sticking out?” Steve examined the small section of hair he’d managed to braid, it ran along the edge of Peggy’s hairline.

It was neat, so he’d done something right, but it hung separately from the rest of her hair, instead of tracing around to the back of her head in a gorgeous arrangement of curls, as he’d seen her wear it before.

Peggy met his eyes in the mirror, before glancing at the section of hair he held out for inspection. “You need to add a little more hair to it each time. Start again.”

Steve glanced at the braid – his most successful effort yet – before reluctantly unravelling it, running his fingers gently through the loose strands.

He set to work again, sat on the end of the bed with Peggy between his legs, her back against his chest. She sighed quietly as his fingers softly parted sections of hair, holding three small pieces in his hands, just the way she’d instructed.

He started again, overlapping once piece over the other, but this time adding to the sections as he went along.

It worked well, the braid worked its way loosely around her head, incorporating her curls into a beautiful, twirling pattern.

It was the style he’d seen her wear at Camp Lehigh. He’d studied it as they were being driven back to base after he’d successfully collected the flag the recruits had been challenged to retrieve. He’d stared at the back of her head for longer than what was probably appropriate, trying to figure out how she’d twisted her curls into such a lovely style.

Never in his wildest dreams would he have imagined he’d be perched on the bed he shared with Peggy, her hand resting on his thigh as she instructed him on how to recreate the braided style.

“It’s too low,” Peggy warned.

Steve frowned, holding on to the bottom of the braid so he could examine his work.

“It needs to finish here,” she moved to show him, wincing in pain as she lifted her right arm.

“Careful,” he scolded her softly. His frown deepened as he caught Peggy’s eye in the mirror, her face was scrunched up in pain.

“I forgot why we started this,” she shook her head, clearing the pain from her features.

Peggy’s arm was in plaster. She’d jumped from a third story window and landed on her arm, breaking it badly – they’d been on a mission late at night, following a lead to an old apartment building in Brooklyn. Steve had heard the fall, moments before hearing her cry out on pain.

She’d needed surgery, which had been hell on Steve’s nerves, despite the fact that it wasn’t even a particularly risky operation. Now Peggy’s arm was wrapped in plaster and a sling while it healed, meaning she needed Steve’s help for a lot of basic tasks. Not that that stopped her from tying to manage on her own.

“I’ll start again,” he sighed quietly, unravelling the braid.

Peggy squeezed his thigh. “You’re improving quickly, it just takes a bit of practice.”

With only one working arm – and not her dominant arm, at that – one of Peggy’s biggest difficulties was styling her hair.

Her makeup, she could easily manage one handed. Getting dressed was a little difficult, but Steve’s expertise in getting her clothes off actually came in handy when he needed to help her get them on. He had an intimate knowledge of how things hooked and buckled, and in what order various undergarments needed to be put on.

But her hair was another issue entirely. Steve didn’t know the first thing about styling women’s hair. Sure, the girls on the USO tour had been pretty open when it came to getting ready in front of him, borderline inappropriate, at times. But he’d watched them style their hair with a clueless fascination that hadn’t actually provided him with any useful knowledge.

Being married to Peggy had opened his eyes to the wonders of pin-curling, but that was an “intricate art,” as Peggy had explained to him, and not something she was willing to let him start with.

So he’d suggested the hairstyle she’d worn during the war. He wasn’t sure if that was more or less challenging than pin-curls, but Peggy had assured him it was a good place to begin. The braids were relatively simple, apparently, and it was styled on dry hair rather than wet, so they wouldn’t be racing against the clock.

“See, you’ve almost got it,” Peggy smiled.

Steve’s fingers were moving more easily now, the weaving motion becoming more natural. He brought the braid around, higher this time, and came to a stop at the back of her head.

He looked at Peggy in the mirror, at a loss.

“Oh, you’ll need hair pins to keep it in place.” She leaned forward, reaching out with her right arm subconsciously.

Peggy fell back against Steve’s chest, groaning in pain.

“This is going to take some getting used to,” she frowned.

Steve wrapped his arm around her waist, his other hand gripping his first successful braid. He leant down, resting his head on the juncture of her neck and shoulder, breathing in her comforting scent.

While he was wrapped around her Peggy leaned forward carefully, and, using her left arm, picked up the box of hair pins.

She placed the box on Steve’s thigh.

“Open one of these just slightly, like you’ve seen me do, then slide it in. You’ll likely need more than one.”

Steve pulled a couple of pins out of the box and followed Peggy’s instructions.

He pulled his hand away tentatively, expecting the braid to come tumbling apart. Miraculously it stayed put. Peggy shook her head, testing the durability of his work, before leaning back against him with a smile.

“I told you you’d get the hang of it. It’s those nimble artist’s fingers.” She gave Steve a suggestive wink in the mirror, making him chuckle. “Now you just need to do the same on the other side.”

“I think this is fine,” he murmured, pressing his lips to her neck.

“Oh, you’re so right,” she retorted. “Beautifully styled on one side and completely loose on the other. I’m sure Vogue will be featuring it in their next issue.”

Steve smiled against her neck. “If you wanted Vogue standard hairstyles, perhaps you shouldn’t have jumped out of a third story window.”

“I didn’t intend to break my arm.”

“You’re lucky you didn’t break your neck.”

“This coming from the man who frequently jumps from planes without parachutes.”

“I have the serum,” he countered.

“Oh of course, how could I forget. The serum that makes you completely invincible,” she replied bitterly.

“I didn’t mean… I know I’m not invincible. But I can handle a hell of a lot.”

“That doesn’t mean you need to go around testing your limits. Besides, I was out of bullets and they had me at point blank range, what do you suggest I should have done? Stand there and get shot?”

Steve sighed, letting his head drop to her shoulder.

“No,” he breathed. “But you could’ve called for me, I might have been able to catch you.”

“There simply wasn’t time.” She exhaled slowly.

He tightened both arms around Peggy’s waist, pulling her close against him.

They sat together for a while, not speaking. His attention was on the warmth of Peggy’s neck against his cheek, the gentle rise and fall of her chest.

“I’ll call for you next time I’m in trouble, if I can.” Peggy spoke softly. “But you’ve got to start taking your own safety as seriously as you take mine.”

Realistically Steve knew Peggy’s safety was always going to be his priority, but she did have a point.

“Alright, I’ll be more careful,” he mumbled into her shoulder.

“You’ll start using parachutes?” She raised an eyebrow.

Steve planted a kiss on her cheek. “I’ll start using parachutes.”

Peggy smiled and patted his thigh. “Now, back to work. You’ve got to learn how to make me look somewhat presentable.”


	15. Peggy's first Thanksgiving

“If you don’t have any plans on Thursday, I’d like to cook Thanksgiving dinner. For the three of us,” Steve announced.

Peggy looked up from her book, and raised an eyebrow at Steve.

“What?”

“You’ve never expressed an interest in the holiday before,” she replied. They’d been married three years and never celebrated it once.

Steve shrugged. “We’re a family now, I want to start making traditions.”

“Suit yourself.” She turned back to her book. “Though I don’t think Maggie’s ready for turkey just yet.”

Steve chuckled. “Wiseass,” he muttered.

…

When the holiday arrived Steve was surprisingly enthusiastic. He’d bought a little stuffed animal, a turkey, for Maggie, which she proceeded to put in her mouth. At five months old everything she could get a hold of went into her mouth.

“You’ll have to put her down for more than five minutes if you want to get any cooking done.”

Steve had got as far as putting his apron on before Maggie’s squeals had distracted him. She seemed to find the stuffed turkey rather amusing. He bounced her on his hip, pulling faces to make her laugh even more.

“Perhaps I should have volunteered to cook,” she sighed.

Steve walked over and placed Maggie in Peggy’s lap. “No need, I’ve got it covered.”

…

An hour later Peggy ventured into the kitchen, Maggie on her hip.

“Are you sure you don’t need any help?”

Steve was surrounded by an absurd amount of food. Peggy could smell the turkey cooking in the oven, see the piles of chopped vegetables and ceramic dishes half filled.

“It’s fine, it’s all going to plan.” He pushed the freshly chopped carrots aside, making room for the potatoes.

“I suppose it is only a dry run for Christmas.”

Steve frowned.

“What?”

He turned, potato peeler in hand. “It’s a completely different holiday.”

“Stuffing ourselves with a huge turkey dinner on a cold day. It’s not far off.”

“Christmas dinner doesn’t have to be turkey,” Steve argued.

“Of course it does, it’s tradition!”

“Not where I’m from.”

Peggy rolled her eyes, they’d had this discussion before. Steve had suggested a ham joint and she’d balked at the idea of Christmas without a turkey.

“Can you pass the marshmallows?” Steve nodded towards the cupboard behind Peggy.

She picked them up, careful to keep them out of Maggie’s reach as she wriggled, her chubby fingers reaching for them.

“I thought you’d bought dessert?” Peggy dumped the bag on the counter in front of Steve.

He nodded, opening the bag. “These are for the sweet potato casserole.”

Peggy watched in horror as he began sprinkling them over a dish of mashed sweet potato. “You can’t be serious?”

“What? It’s tradition.”

Peggy shook her head, heading towards the door. “I’m putting her down for a nap.”

“Before you go can you pass the –”

“The chocolate sprinkles, for the carrots?”

“Never mind,” he laughed, turning back to the chopping board.

…

The spread Steve laid out was spectacular, especially considering he’d done the lion’s share of the work. After Maggie had gone down for her nap Peggy had helped with some of the smaller tasks – chopping vegetables and stirring sauces.

The only mishaps were some burnt bread rolls and a slightly watery cranberry sauce. But overall it was an incredible success.

They ate until they were stuffed, and Maggie was demanding attention. Steve happily obliged, pulling her out of her high chair and into his lap.

Peggy stretched languidly. She was full to the brim, but the slice of pumpkin pie in front of her still looked terribly appetising. “Why on earth didn’t you introduce me to this before?”

“It seemed like a lot of work, and you didn’t celebrate it, so…” Steve shrugged.

“It’s a holiday that revolves around eating disgusting amounts of food. I can’t imagine a holiday more suited to us.”

He chuckled. “So it’s a tradition you want to keep?”

“Definitely, and I don’t doubt Maggie will grow to love it, considering she’s inherited your appetite.”

Steve snorted. “And your temper when you can’t put her food in front of her fast enough.” He bounced their daughter in his arms, she was babbling incoherently, two fingers in her mouth.

Peggy nudged his shoulder, smiling indulgently. Though she hated to admit it, Steve’s comparison was quite accurate.


End file.
